


Snapshots (or 4 times Sam Flynn went to the beach)

by Dizzy28



Category: Tron (1982), Tron (Movies), Tron - All Media Types, Tron: Legacy (2010)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-12
Updated: 2016-04-12
Packaged: 2018-06-01 22:30:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6539059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dizzy28/pseuds/Dizzy28
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>We ourselves feel that what we are doing is just a drop in the ocean. But the ocean would be less because of that missing drop.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1010101 (2)

The sun-heated sand warms his bare feet and he wriggles his toes against his flip-flops, letting sand run over his feet. A solid hand on his shoulder makes him look up, and Sam squints against the high noon sun, his father's face a dark contrast against the bright light.

"Hey, buddy. Wanna go in the water now?"

Sam's curls bang against the sides of his head as he shakes his head with gusto, earing a belly-laugh from Kevin.

"Yeah, you never did like water much, did you?" it's his father's affable response, and he beams at him. Sam was still getting used to bathing alone - or rather, coming up with ways to avoid bath-time.

"Like father like son," a soft voice chimes in from behind Kevin, and as Sam's mother saunters away from Kevin's amused gaze, he turns to Sam again, crouching to his height to grin at his son.

"How 'bout we go avenge your old man's honor, huh?"

Sam laughs as he's lift up from the ground by Kevin's hands, the sand on top of his feet flying everywhere as Kevin lifts him onto his shoulders, charging at full gallop towards Jordan's retreating form.


	2. 1100010 (15)

It had been a nice idea, when Alan suggested it. It had almost made that week's boring, long hours at school bearable. The weekend had come, and not even the cloudy sky had been able to put a damper on Alan's smile.

Sometimes Sam wished Uncle Alan didn't try so hard to pretend everything was okay.

They're skipping stones against the surface of the water, the calm, almost motionless ocean lapping at the shore, Sam far enough that the sand he stands on is barely wet. Alan stands further in, water up to his ankles. His back is to Sam, and the only thing Sam can think of is that whenever his father and him skipped rocks, his dad always stood next to him.

Maybe that's why the next words make their way out of Sam's mouth unbridled.

"Is Dad ever coming back?"

The next stone Alan throws launches slightly too vertical to the surface, and sinks to the bottom with a splash.

Alan takes one second too long to answer, his shoulders tense, his voice almost hoarse.

"Of course he is, Sam."

He doesn't turn to look at him before throwing the next rock, and Sam pretends he doesn't understand why.


	3. 0001010 (27)

The thrill of the Grid is still running through his system, and he makes the trip to the beach in record time, not that he has ever driven down here himself.

Still, he wants Quorra to see this. She's eagerly clutching at his leather jacket, and he would be annoyed if her excitement wasn't so damn contagious.

The landscape is just as he remembered it. The quiet waters, huge sun as it neared the middle of the sky, and almost unbearably hot sand. _Almost_.

He toes off his Nikes and takes a seat as he waits for Quorra to take off her boots. Circuit-marked feet - something not even _whatever_ the opposite of digitalization was called had changed - are buried deep in the sand in imitation of Sam's as she takes a seat besides him.

"You like it?" His question is answered with a wide smile and an eager nod.

"I love it!" Quorra seems to consider her surroundings once more, "everything's so bright!"

"Says neon girl," Sam mutters, and shakes his head when Quorra cocks an eyebrow at him quizzically. He knows she's still getting used to the sun, and probably the fact that the water in this world is actually _blue_ , and not a deep, bottomless black.

As if reading his thoughts, Quorra gets up gracefully, tugging at Sam's hand. "Let's go in the water!"

Sam reluctantly lets her pull him to his feet, and follows at a slow pace compared to Quorra's excited steps. "You sure it's not gonna be too much excitement for one day?"

Quorra just grins at him, her shins already inside the warm water.

He watches Quorra walk further and further into the water from a distance. Between the sound of the seagulls and Quorra's carefree laugh, he can still hear the dull sound Tron - his savior and his father's before him - made when he hit the surface of the Sea of Simulation.


	4. 0001011 (28)

This was as good a funeral as any, Sam guessed. His father already had a grave next to his mother's, with a date that Sam now knew wasn't right. At least the epitaph had been fitting. _Lost but never forgotten_. Sam never knew Alan could be such a poet, although he had learned throughout the years that, if anything, the man was good at hiding his feelings.

They had no remains to scatter, but they had made do with various things. Pictures, pages of magazines Flynn had read and read until the pages were cracked and bent at odd angles, some of the Arcade's promotional fliers, copies of letters and printed emails he had sent over the years.

Sam didn't know if this was right. If he would have wanted them to burn that stuff, if his dad would have preferred a burial, or to have his ashes scattered somewhere else. His father had always been a stranger, more an ever-present memory in everyone around him, or a story in the newspaper's front page than a real, tangible, presence in his life.

Alan had reassured him, with that cracked voice and tight smile that told Sam the man was trying very hard not to cry, that that weekend Kevin had spent with Sam and his mother here what felt like a million years ago, would remain as Flynn's brightest memory through the worst of times.

 _Besides_ \- he had added - _the ocean is the closest thing I know to Kevin's spirit._ Sam hadn't known what to make of that, but now, standing with the calm water moving under his knees, Uncle Alan's arm around his shoulders and Aunt Lora's across his back, looking out at the endless waters, ocean extending far beyond anyone's sight, touching every little bit of the horizon, he thinks he finally understands.


End file.
